Ring The Bells For The Blind And

A Lot Of People From The Press Want To Talk To Me, But They Never Do.

You're Better Than No One And No One Is Better Than You.

The Ghosts Race Towards The Light, You Can Almost Hear The Heavy Breathing Spirits, All Determined To Get Somewhere. New Orleans, Unlike A Lot Of Places You Go Back To And That Don't Have The Magic Anymore, Still Has Got It. Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. You Can't See It, But You Know It's Here. Somebody's Always Sinking.

Some People Are Called To Be A Good Sailor. Some People Have A Calling To Be A Good Tiller Of The Land. Some People Are Called To Be A Good Friend. You Have To Be The Best At Whatever You Are Called At. Whatever You Do. You Ought To Be The Best At It – Highly Skilled. It's About Confidence, Not Arrogance. You Have To Know That You're The Best Whether Anybody Else Tells You That Or Not. And That You'll Be Around, In One Way Or Another, Longer Than Anybody Else. Somewhere Inside Of You, You Have To Believe That.

They're Selling Postcards Of The Hanging They're Painting The Passports Brown The Beauty Parlor Is Filled With Sailors The Circus Is In Town Here Comes The Blind Commissioner They've Got Him In A Trance One Hand Is Tied To The Tight-rope Walker The Other Is In His Pants And The Riot Squad They're Restless They Need Somewhere To Go As Lady And I Look Out Tonight From Desolation Row.